Chapter 9
If there was one word people would use to describe Ryder Clark, it would be “suave.” Or perhaps, “casual.” Funny. Attractive. Charming. Humble. A word they wouldn’t use was “nervous.” I’d never been accused of that particular affliction. Except, it seemed, when it came to Hannah.
I stood on the front porch of a cozy little house in the suburbs of Salem.
It was one of those neighborhoods where every residence looked identical, the same eggshell-colored paneling, the same manicured lawns.
I shivered as the wind whipped around me, the bottle of scotch from Raleigh in one hand, my other shoved in my pocket.
Hannah wasn’t home. Erin and her husband agreed to meet with me under the condition that Hannah wouldn’t be there, just in case things got tense. I hadn’t knocked yet, and I considered turning around and leaving.
No, I couldn’t run away. Not this time.
I rang the doorbell as another gust sliced into me.
My stomach flipped as footsteps approached the door.
I steeled myself to see Erin, but when the wooden door swung open, I was eye-to-eye with her husband.
He looked like the type of guy you’d expect to find in the suburbs.
He wasn’t ripped by any means, but fit enough.
Dressed down for the night in a simple crew neck sweater and jeans, he pushed a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, clearly as nervous as I was.
Both of us stood there, waiting for the other to break the silence. Finally, he folded.
“You must be Ryder.”
“Guilty as charged.”
He held out his hand, and I took it. “I’m Ben. Please, come in. It’s fucking freezing out here.”
I took a tentative step into the house. The outside mirrored the inside—a typical suburban home.
I stepped into a beige living room. Off to the side, a welcoming heat emanated from the lit fireplace.
An old nineties sitcom played softly on the mounted TV.
My mouth watered at the smell of a roast dinner wafting out from the kitchen.
Ben held open a door leading to a small coat closet. “Can I take your jacket?”
“Oh yeah, sure.” I wiggled out of the leather, but the bottle of scotch bounced back and forth in my arms, so I handed that over too. “Here.”
“Oh my God,” Ben said, eyeing the label. “I think I’m in love with you.”
I laughed.
“You want a glass?”
“No, that’s for you.”
“Suit yourself. Have a seat and make yourself comfortable. I’ll go get Erin. Babe! He brought alcohol! We’re keeping him!”
Ben disappeared into the kitchen, and I made my way over to the set of expensive couches.
I perched on the edge of one, feeling more out of place than I had in a long time.
I stared at the TV, not really taking anything in but knowing the episode by heart.
As I watched the characters fight to get the couch up the stairs, my leg started to bounce.
What did Erin want out of this dinner? I understood that we needed to hammer out some details, but I’d been hoping we could do it using my preferred method: texting.
And that’s only because I didn’t think my other favorite way to deal with problems—ignoring them until they went away—would work here.
Needing something to do with my restless energy, I stood and walked over to the mantle, studying the pictures that lined the surface.
Some were older: Erin and Ben’s wedding, a couple of Hannah’s baby pictures—which looked eerily similar to mine.
As I moved along the mantle, Hannah got older.
Kindergarten graduation, a middle school dance, braces flashing as she smiled wide for the camera.
The last couple were modern pictures of her at debate club meets or FLA conferences.
She was so grown up, and I’d missed so much of it.
“Ryder.”
Her voice sent me back almost twenty years.
Every hair on my body stood on end. I slowly turned to face her.
She looked tired, sure, but it seemed like she hadn’t aged a day.
Blonde hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders.
She wore a hint of makeup, but she didn’t need it. Her natural beauty shone through.
“Erin.” My voice broke, and I cleared my throat to try again. “Hi.”
We faced each other in uncomfortable silence until Ben broke it yet again, rushing in from the kitchen with a glass in his hand. “Ryder, I could marry you. This scotch is amazing.”
As quickly as he appeared, he was gone. A smile tugged at my lips as Erin rolled her eyes. “How did you know his favorite scotch?” she asked.
I shrugged, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “All luck. It didn’t feel right showing up empty-handed.”
“That’s your mom coming out in you.”
“Yeah, it is.” Eventually, we’d have to get the uncomfortable stuff out of the way. I, for one, wanted to get it over with. “Erin, what—”
She stopped me with a wave of her hand. “After dinner, please. You still eat like a linebacker?”
“Oh, come on,” I laughed. “I never ate that much.”
She raised a brow. “Don’t make me bring up prom again.”
My face heated. I had eaten too much that night, but I’d also been drunk, which culminated in me throwing up on the ride home. Before I could come up with a proper retort, Ben reappeared in the doorway with flushed cheeks.
“You’re already on your second cup?” Erin asked, noting the refilled glass in his hand. “You opened the bottle less than ten minutes ago.”
“Mm, yes,” Ben said innocently. “My ‘second’ cup.”
Erin laughed and patted him on the chest. “All right, drunky, go set the table.” Erin moved to follow Ben into the kitchen, motioning for me to join them.
“Can I do anything?” I felt awkward standing in the corner of the room, not knowing my place.
Erin shook her head. “We’ve got it. You can go sit down if you want. Pick any seat.”
I wandered in the direction she indicated, finding a dining room worthy of a magazine. I pulled a chair out at the heavy oak table, sighing as I sat down. Something felt off. I didn’t know what, but it had my defenses up.
Erin and Ben bustled about, setting the table with a platter of roasted chicken and side dishes. Once we all had food and drinks in front of us, they took the seats directly across from me.
“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Ben asked again, holding up the bottle of scotch.
“Thank you, but I have to work tonight.”
Erin passed me one of the platters and we started dishing out the food. “You found a job? So quickly?”
“Bartending at Liz’s.”
When no one replied, I looked up to see Erin regarding me in silence, brow raised. “Seriously?”
Ben cleared his throat. “Erin…”
Not understanding their reactions, I ventured, “It’s just a job, but it’s one that I’m good at—and that I could get on short notice.”
“Something about that owner just seems off, that’s all.”
I frowned. I knew that wasn’t the whole story, but I wasn’t willing to press. The situation was tense enough already.
Conversation lulled, the three of us busying ourselves with eating to avoid talking about the elephant in the room. I could feel the tension in the air, with Erin stealing looks at Ben, and the oh-so-subtle shakes of his head.
Ben, sweetheart that he was, tried his best to ease some of the awkwardness.
He asked about my family, about my life in Vegas, and what it had been like growing up with Erin—who stayed suspiciously quiet throughout the conversation.
I felt like I’d wandered into a lion’s den.
I never thought I’d miss Erin’s artificial smiles—the ones she used to deflect.
Now, I was uncomfortably aware that she hadn’t smiled in fifteen minutes.
Our meal was finished, and I was three minutes into the infamous water tower story when Erin dropped her fork onto her empty plate and stood from the table. “I can’t do this,” she said, then fled out of the room.
“Erin, now’s not the time!” Ben called after her, but she was already gone. He looked at me with pity in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
I waited, brow furrowed and heart pounding in my chest. Erin’s footsteps sounded again. Ben’s gaze fell to his lap as she returned. Erin rounded the table, slapped a folder down next to my plate, then returned to her chair.
“What is this?” I asked, hand shaking as I picked it up. A law firm was stamped across the front. I fingered the edge of the cardstock, preparing myself to open it when Erin spoke again.
“They’re papers to terminate your parental rights.”
My heart sank to my stomach. The folder slipped out of my numb fingers. “Excuse me?”
Ben opened his mouth. “Maybe we should—”
“No, Ben,” Erin interrupted. “We’re doing this now.”
“Does Hannah know about this?” I asked, unable to look at Erin. I kept my eyes trained on the lawyer’s logo like my life depended on it.
Erin answered with a simple, “No.”
“Then I’m not signing anything.”
“Come on, Ryder. Don’t do your thing.”
“My thing?” Anger started to creep under my collar.
“Your stubborn no-one’s-going-to-tell-me-what-to-do thing. You never wanted kids.”
“You never asked.” I finally gathered the courage to meet her eyes. It was Erin’s turn to break eye contact. “Did you ask Hannah what she wants?”
“Hannah’s a kid. My kid. It’s my job to protect her.”
“From what? I’m not a monster.”
The muscle in her jaw twitched. “She’s only seventeen.”
“Erin, think about where we were at seventeen. You had your entire life planned out, and from the looks of it, it worked out for you. I know my arrival has shaken up your perfect little suburban life,” I picked up the folder and tossed it across the table, where it landed in front of her, “but I refuse to apologize for the life I led based on a choice you made.”
“I made? You were the one who changed the plan! You’re saying if I told you I was pregnant, it would have been different?”
I scoffed. “We’ll never know because you didn’t tell me.” I closed my eyes and took a deep centering breath. “When did you find out?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“Just answer me, Erin.”
“A month after I left Salem.”
“I didn’t leave for years. You could’ve told me at any point.”
“And then what? We’d have played at being a happy family? You would’ve moved to New York?”
“We could have talked about it, or worked something out. Instead, I’ve been completely blindsided seventeen years later. It’s out of our control now. Hannah’s nearly an adult, and this isn’t our decision to make anymore, not without her.”
Erin looked stunned. “When did you grow up?” she finally asked with a sad smile.
I answered without pausing to think. “A broken heart does that to a person.”
As realization widened both of their eyes, we heard the front door open. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to will my heart rate to slow down. Erin brushed tears away, and Ben took another long sip of scotch.
“Mom? Dad?”
“Dining room, sweetie,” Ben called.
I stood. “I have to get to work.”
Erin toyed with the folder in front of her. “Ryder, will you at least consider—”
“Not our decision,” I reiterated firmly, just as Hannah rounded the corner.
Hannah wore her work uniform, backpack slung over her shoulder. She looked tired, but brightened when she saw me. “Oh, hi Ryder! I didn’t expect to see you here.”
I swallowed hard, trying to summon my best smile for her. “I was just leaving. I have a shift.”
Just as I thought, the girl was too smart for her own good. She looked from me, to Erin, then to the folder under our hands. “What’s going on?”
I shoved the folder back in Erin’s direction. “Ask your mom.” Hannah reached out for a hug as I passed her. “You can call me later if you need to.”
I grabbed my jacket from the coat closet and saw myself out, pulling the door shut behind me.